Into the Mist
by Lunar Serenade
Summary: "Going through these paths only brings about pain and darkness." A story of how Mukuro became the twisted illusionist he is today.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer;** I don't own KHR or any of its characters.

* * *

**Into the Mist**

It was quiet in Kokuyo Land. There was none of M.M.'s shrill whines. None of Ken's loud cries. None of Fran's snide comments.

For once, everything was rendered into silent bliss.

Verde released a sigh of relief as he worked on his latest invention for the upcoming Arcobaleno battles. Ever since he requested Mukuro and his lackeys to be his representatives, there was never a day of peace. They were always arguing about silly, nonsensical things, fighting over trivialities that were far below his realm of intelligence. He began to miss his self-induced isolation, a beautiful time without such constant headaches.

Still, he knew better. If he wanted victory, he had to endure these trials and useless, idiotic humans for a little while longer. For now, as he took in a deep breath, he was content with this momentary reprieve and relished it for as long as it may last.

Of course, there was one man that could not allow the scientist to work in peace.

"Kufufu, still working so late in the night, Dr. Verde?"

The scientist didn't bother turning around.

"I am far above such primitive needs such as sleep, Mukuro," he answered curtly, concentrating on his work in futile hopes the man would go away.

The illusionist only grinned. "Kufufu, you truly are a mad scientist are you?"

Verde did not grace him with a response. If he ever had to hear 'kufufu' ever again, he swore he would go insane.

Mukuro waltzed closer, tentatively kicking the strange contraption.

"Are you even sure this thing will work? The idea of inventing a machine that made illusions real seems more like the ravings of a mad scientist."

He took a quick step back when a screwdriver went flying towards his head.

"Stay away from my machine!" Verde scolded him. He scoffed and adjusted his glasses. "And I assure you that this will work in time for its first test run during the battles."

Mukuro bowed his head in consent, his eyes and lips gleaming with contempt, mocking him as per usual.

Verde grumbled, "It is incredible that a naturally charismatic man could become such a twisted individual. Tragic really."

"Kufufu, would you like to hazard a guess how I turned out this way?"

Verde snapped his head towards the young illusionist, his usual sardonic grin on his lips. "I'm sure a man of your intelligence has hypothesized different theories how I became this 'charistmatic, yet tragically twisted individual', as you call me."

The challenge was placed directly before him, baiting him. Verde scoffed and said, "I have no time for silly games, Mukuro. I will do no such thing."

"But if you guess correctly, I will leave you alone for the rest of the night."

He froze in his place, hand wavering over the machine's bolt. Now that was something he could not just pass up. Verde turned around to face him, arms crossed and a smile on his face. Challenge accepted.

"Fine. If this is what it will take for me to be rid of you," he replied, appraising the illusionist.

"Here is my educated guess about your tragic life – you were born into slavery with only your sickly father and new wife. He attempted to hide your skills in illusions to keep you safe from anyone who may want to use you. Your stepmother was jealous of your father's attention to you, receiving the love that she never felt. Once your father died and she discovered your skills, your mother sold to be experimented by the Estraneo mafia, in part for money and vindictive jealousy. There you experienced the worst torture imaginable… then I think the rest speaks for itself. Everyone knows what happens next."

Everything fell into silence. All Mukuro could do was stare, his face falling uncharacteristically serious. Verde sat back on the floor and exhaled in triumph, brimming with satisfaction over his examination.

"Well? How was that? Or perhaps I should elaborate even more?"

The illusionist did not respond. Pensive, heterochromatic eyes were locked onto a pair of confident green.

He coughed into his hand. His shoulders shook. Verde's brow rose at such a reaction. Did he strike that far home that it rendered the great Mukuro to tears? He almost wished he had something to record this momentous event.

Of course, the scientist should know better than to think something so ridiculous. Mukuro could not contain himself any longer and burst out into laughter.

"Thank goodness you're not a psychologist, Professor Verde. I hope you make better machines than you can diagnoses," Mukuro said in the midst of his chuckles. He settled over him with a wide smile. "Would you like to try again?"

Verde glared and grumpily returned to his work, cursing the illusionist and wondering how his great analysis was incorrect.

The scientist did miss the whimsy in the illusionist's eyes, the nostalgia waving over him as he stared out into the machine's clean steel, eyes of red and blue staring at him – those eyes that cursed him into this life of darkness and tragedy.

Mukuro exhaled sharply, his smile turning bitter. Verde could not be more wrong about his life.

'_After all, I never knew my real father. All I had was my mother._'

* * *

A/N Notes: This is meant to be a drabble series analyzing Mukuro and how he became the way he is. This should be fun.

Thanks for reading~


	2. Chapter 2

The plate she was drying was left in shatters on the floor. Her eyes widened. Her body shook.

"W… what happened?"

The little boy looked up, calm, blue eyes looking at his mother. He repeated patiently, "It's just as I told you. Fernando laughed at me when I was trying to grow a flower so I scared him away."

He beamed at the memory, proud that he managed to make that rude Fernando running away, peeing in his pants.

"No, that's not what I meant, dear. S… so you tried growing a flower? Out of thin air?" she asked, her voice bordering on frantic.

He nodded his head. "I found out I could do it yesterday. I just thought of something on top of my head, and then _poof_. It appears! It wasn't real though, but I wanted to see if I could..."

"Don't do it again."

He blinked in confusion, brows knitting together "What? Why not?"

The little boy was shocked into silence by the shakiness in his mother's voice, the ferocity in her blue eyes. She knelt down beside him and held him firmly by the shoulders. "Listen to me. Don't do that _ever _again. _Ever_, especially when your father's around! Do you understand? Do you understand?"

He only nodded his head. He watched as water pooled in her eyes, her lips trembling. She stared at his eyes studying their blue depths. Her breath hitched, realizing that her greatest fear was coming true.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he tried soothing his mother.

She shook her head. "No, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

He allowed his mother to pull him into an embrace and cry.

* * *

The little boy had served the Estraneo Famiglia with his mother for as long as he could remember. They were hopelessly poor, but managed to maintain a decent lifestyle.

Despite his hardships, he was content with his life. All he needed was his mother. He did not even care who his real father was and cared even less for the man she married thereafter.

He never liked the Italian name his mother's new husband called him. It just did not feel right. It also might have something to do with the fact that the boy did not like his stepfather, but he dismissed that as a possibility.

He preferred the name his mother gave him. She was fond of Japanese culture and discovered it by chance when she was servicing the Japanese mafia that came to speak with the Estraneos.

Rokudo Mukuro. He felt that name suited him best.

* * *

A/N Notes: Now we're flashing back into Mukuro's childhood. Oh yeah.

Thanks for reading~


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm different from everyone else, aren't I?"

The mother stopped sweeping the guestroom floors and turned towards Mukuro as he stares into his reflection, frowning.

She smiled and answered, "You're just special, dear. You have an ability that not many people have."

"So is it like a gift?"

Her smile disappeared. She did not answer. She walked up to her son and wrapped her arms around him.

"You see, dear, we come from a strange family with special abilities. Our family once believed in a cycle of life and death, the Six Paths of Reincarnation. We have the power to go through these paths, reliving those past lives and unlocking great power," she explained. "Our key through those paths is this"

Mukuro watched in wonder as the illusion over his mother's right away melted away, a sea of blood red breaking through tranquil blue.

"This eye has been passed down through generations, only to one who has the greatest gift of illusion. It unlocks the full extent of their abilities, grants special powers unique for individual host, and offers the strength of all those who came before them." He snapped his head and saw his mother had conjured little fish, watching it swim across the smooth glass. "At first, this eye was seen to be a gift from the heavens, bestowing us a power that would allow us to help protect our family from those who may wish to exploit us."

He was instantly fascinated. "That's so cool… Will I inherit that eye, Mother? Will you teach me how to go through those paths?"

"Absolutely not!" she shouted.

Her son quickly quieted down, watching as a shark appeared and ate the fish whole, disappearing in a gentle burst of mist. His mother stared at her reflection, a weary sadness rushing through her features. The illusion soon returned her eye back to its normal blue.

"This eye is a curse. I plan on bringing it to my grave rather than letting you suffer the way I have. Traveling through such paths only brings about pain and darkness – something I would never wish upon you."

"But what about our family? Haven't they done the same thing? Didn't you say the eye was a gift?"

"At first everyone thought it was. True, there were few who did go through those paths, but they quickly learned there was a hefty price for such power, for using this blasted eye. Most went insane and died after enduring such horrors. Those few who managed to survive were killed by other evils – greed and jealousy. The eye had always found a way of escaping enemy hands and returning to our family, to another victim to inflict its curse with." Her smile turned bitter. She placed her head down on his head and mumbled sadly, "Because of corrupt people like that, because of this eye… we are the only two left."

'_The only two left..._' Mukuro frowned at the thought, finding the idea almost sad.

She turned him around and added, "There are people who curse us as devils and try to destroy us. There are people who envy our skills and try to take it for their own gain. That is why we are in hiding. No one, not your stepfather, not even this family, must know of our powers. Understand?"

Mukuro nodded his head, glancing down to the floor thoughtful, considerate.

"If that's too tough… then can you teach me how to handle my illusions better?" Her mother only froze in her place, her hands dropping stiffly to her sides. Before she could open her mouth to speak, he quickly added, "It's just illusions! I don't want to deny my true heritage any more than I have to. Please, mother?"

She scrutinized the boy, studying his obstinate face, the bright gleam in his eyes.

"You do know that illusions are difficult to master. Being an illusionist requires discipline and patience. It is being able to create illusions that hide real illusions, creating real illusions from the illusions that you just created. It is understanding that the truth can hide the lie and within that lie can hide the truth," she said, shooting him a stern look. "Do you think you can handle that?"

Mukuro considered his mother's words, his expression quizzical, but still he nodded his head. She paused, waiting for a moment of uncertainty. His determination remained unwavering.

She released a heavy sigh. "Only at night when no one is around, especially your stepfather. Understand?"

He smiled and hugged her. "_Grazie, Madre!_I promise to work hard!"

"I know you will." She kissed him on the forehead, staring at their reflections in the mirror. "I'm sorry, dear… I never wanted you to be like this, bearer of such a gift, heir to this horrible curse. I promise you there will be a day when you can walk around proudly, without fear of hiding. There will be a day when you'll be out of the dark and into the light."

He listened to his mother's melancholy words and believed them true. There will be a day they both will be free of this fear. In his youth, he clung to that single thread of hope and strove for that light.

Little did he know that fate had something entirely different planned for them. One day those hopes would be shattered and drowned out by darkness.

* * *

A/N Notes: Thanks for reading~


	4. Chapter 4

Their lessons began as his mother promised. She taught him the nuances of basic illusions and found, to her surprise, that Mukuro had a natural talent. It took only a few hours instruction for him to figure out how to create basic, inanimate objects.

"So what are you going to teach me now, Mother?" Mukuro asked, jumping excitedly before her. "Maybe how to alter my appearance? How to make breathing objects?"

She smiled. "Today, I'm going to teach you something that is more powerful than mere illusions – words."

He immediately deflated, his whole body sagging at the suggestion. "What?"

"Yes. Words can be the greatest weapon in a person's arsenal. Words have the power to form actions, influence thought, and even create a complete experience. A little flattery can go a long way!" Seeing his look of disappointment, she added, "You'll see what I mean soon enough. Why don't you be a dear and deliver something to Agathe for me?"

"Not fair! We're not practicing today?"

"You're still a little boy. You could use a day of rest. I know I'm tired." Seeing the pout on his face, she playfully ruffled his hair and handed him a package. "Now go on. I am making dinner, and I do not want you to be late."

With his pout intact, Mukuro sulkily complied and rushed off. She could be teaching him how to construct new worlds, people, even a freakin' dragon, but instead she gives a brief lesson on words? He never struck his mother as being so lazy…

"Ack!" At the sharp burst, he glanced up, his blue eyes coming into contact with a familiar boy. The boy stood tensely before him, his face draining of color.

"Oh. _Buona pomeriggio. _Good afternoon, Fernan-"

"_Lontano da me, demonio! _Get away from me, demon!"

The blue-haired boy only blinked in confusion, watching Fernando run off with a loud, girlish squeal.

"Oh, please don't pay any mind to the boy," he looked up to see Agathe the maid standing beside him, releasing a heavy sigh. "For some reason, he's completely terrified of you. You didn't do anything to frighten him, did you?"

His shoulders tensed, but Mukuro managed to smile "Me? Of course not! That's silly!" The maid seemed content with that white lie and did not press any further. "And I was looking for you, Agathe! Mother wanted me to give this to you!"

"Ophelia finally finished sewing my dress?" The woman smiled and gratefully took the package. "It's much too bad I cannot try it on yet… such a shame."

He looked at her in confusion, encouraging her to elaborate. She explained she was to take Estraneo's son, Fernando, out for a picnic.

"But I fear the food will get cold since I now have to find that cowardly boy…" She heaved a deep sigh, looking down at the basket in dismay.

Mukuro stepped closer and took a deep breath. Ah, the luxuries of the affluent! How he envied them. All his family ever ate was stale bread and any leftovers from the Estraneo Familigia meals, which were oftentimes meager at best.

"That's a shame indeed… They should appreciate you and all that time and effort you give them," he seriously said and forced himself to take a step back.

Agathe giggled. "Ah, sweetheart, you flatter me! You are much too kind for you own good."

"Well, it is the truth. I mean, if I we were that boy I would not waste anything you made. We are lucky to have any food on our table for dinner."

The thought made Agathe fall silent. "Say, what are you and your family having today?"

He stood there for a moment in pensive silence. "Hmm… I'm not sure. We may be having ourselves stew tonight. I think there were some leftover potatoes from the last meal… Speaking of which, I should go back. Mother does not like me being late to dinner."

"That is certainly not dinner! It's no wonder you are so thin!" she exclaimed in horror. She glanced down to the basket for a long moment and handed it off to him. "Here. Take this!"

The boy stood there shocked, staring at the basket and then back at the woman. "Agathe, I can't! What about Fernando?"

The woman scoffed. "I will just make the brat new food. He'll just complain that it's cold anyway. Just take it. Consider it my payment to your mother for making me such a wonderful dress!"

"B… but Agathe…"

"Here! I'm not taking no for an answer!"

Agathe shoved the basket into Mukuro's hands and waved him off with a wide smile. He stood there for a moment and stared at the basket in his hands. What had just happened?

'_Words can be the greatest weapon in a person's arsenal._'

He gasped, gaping at the evidence of her teachings. His eye widened. Words are power!

In a matter of hours he discovered his gift of illusions. In the matter of moments, he discovered his second gift, perhaps the most potent one in his repertoire – words.

* * *

He never liked peeking through the doors of the Estraneo estate. He heard enough anguished screams and tortured cries to know the extent of their cruel experiments and held no desires to see the victims in the aftermath.

Still he found himself drawn to a single door.

It was open wide, forgotten, drowned in an eerie silence. He had enough sense to keep walking and not look back. He had dinner to take to his mother, and he was famished.

Still, his feet drifted closer towards that door, his childish curiosity getting the better of him.

What he saw inside was absolutely pitiful.

There were two boys, both appearing close to his age, possibly a little younger. One with glasses sat at the side, toying absently with a yo-yo. The other boy with blonde, spiky hair was curled into a tight ball, shaking and whimpering softly to himself.

Years later, he told himself that his next actions were not out of sympathy. Even in those early days, he claimed he already had vague plans of escape and found that these two had enough potential to be his pawns and assist in his schemes.

Whatever the reason was that possessed him, Mukuro quietly placed some food on the ground and disappeared.

* * *

A/N Notes: Thanks for reading~


	5. Chapter 5

"Mother, look what I have!" Mukuro announced proudly, holding up his food prize high in his small hands.

Her blue eyes widened at the sight. She rushed over to him and plucked the basket out of his hands, examining its contents. "Just where did you get this?"

"Agathe gave it to me, saying it was payment." He beamed, preening his success. "Aren't people so nice?

"Hmph. Your mother already prepared dinner, Luciano."

He twitched at the sound of the name and turned around to see a man sitting down at the table, his steely eyes sharp and severe.

Mukuro felt his spine become rigid. "Hello, Father."

She tried placating her husband, "It's not a problem. We can always eat both and save the leftovers for lat-"

"But doesn't that inconsiderate boy understand that all your effort is going to waste? Hmph. He does not appreciate you if he just goes out and fetches food…"

"Emiliano, that is enough." He quickly shut his mouth, resisting the urge to cringe at his wife's stern stare. "I already said that it's fine. We will just eat both. There is no need to fight." She turns to her son and lovingly ruffled his head. "Thank you, dear. That is kind of you."

She placed a kiss on his forehead. Mukuro savored hi s mother's attention and shot his step-father a patronizing look. The man's brow twitched, responding only with a deep glare.

Mukuro was not kidding when he said he believed that his father did not like him. Ever since Emiliano Vitale married his mother, he treated his new son, Luciano Vitale, with scorn. Not that Mukuro knew exactly why. He rationalized that he should be civil to the man, considering his mother somehow liked him and he assisted them financially. Being a peon to the Estraneos did not pay as well as he would like, but every euro counted in their poor state.

He was jolted out of his musings when his mother stumbled, nearly collapsing to the floor.

Emiliano was on her first. "Ophelia! Are you alright?"

She looked at both of them with a haggard smile and coughed lightly into her hands. "It's nothing. I'm just… tired."

"You sit. I'll get the stew," Emiliano said, helping her into the chair.

Mukuro piped up, "I'll empty out the basket!"

The two quickly set off to the work, shooting worried glances towards the woman they loved and held dear.

* * *

There was no denying that Ophelia was beautiful.

Beautiful could not even properly describe her. She was absolutely ethereal.

Her smile, that cobalt blue hair, those glimmering eyes… everything about her was enchanting. It was such a shame that the beautiful woman was a mere servant girl.

Many of the higher members of the Estraneo Familigia had tried to charm the little beauty, but to no avail. She should no interest and none of them seemed to hold her attention.

…except him, a mere peon in the grand Estraneo empire. He had managed to have the honor of having the Ophelia as his wife.

He quickly learned that though he received the glories of her attention, he did not have all of it. It was clear she was attached to him, liking him well enough to marry him, but he knew deep down that he did not truly have her heart. No matter how hard he tried, he could not get her to look at him with that look of complete adoration, one full of love. Not in the way she looked at _him_.

The one she loved above all else, eclipsing any affections she may have for Emiliano. _Him_, her bratty son. Luciano, Mukuro, or whatever the hell he wanted to be called. The brat received all of Ophelia's love, love that Emiliano would never truly feel.

And so started a slow growing resentment – honestly, jealous of a child! It was a resentment that will eventually consume him and force him to perform a great act of betrayal. After all, if Emiliano could not have her complete love, then no one can.

* * *

A/N Notes: Since Mukuro is technically Italian through and through, I took a few liberties to decide on his Italian name. Luciano means 'light' while Vitale 'life.' A little irony never hurt. haha

Thanks for reading~


	6. Chapter 6

A spot of blue poked out of the doorway. "Mother, I have tea for you."

His mother smiled weakly and coughed in her hands. "Thanks so much, dear."

Mukuro quietly stepped inside and towards his mother's bedside, placing the tea on her nightstand.

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better now that you're here," she said.

The boy only frowned. It hurt to see his mother so sick. She usually was so vibrant, radiant even. Ever since she was afflicted by this terrible illness, that light he so dearly loved was beginning to fade to only a faint glimmer in his eyes.

It was painful to see her deteriorate like this… and he could only sit there and watch, unable to do a thing.

He sniffled and roughly rubbed his eyes, fighting back this acute stinging sensation. "You know, I've been practicing my illusions. Do you want to see?"

"Of course, dear. Nothing would make me happier."

He climbed into her bed and sat by his mother's side. He closed his eyes and concentrated, picturing its exact shape, the vibrant colors…

"Oh my! A flower?"

He opened his eyes, pleased to see it had worked. A flower appeared right in his hands, his petals bright shades of blue and purple. With a wide smile, he placed the flower into his mother's hands. She examined it curiously, nodding her head in approval

"This illusion is nearly flawless. You have been improving at an incredible rate. Before you know it, you will be better than me!"

"Y... Yeah. Since you haven't been able to teach me lately, I've been practicing myself." Still, looking at her was painful, causing a slow ache in his heart. He swallowed looking at that weak smile, the sick pallor of her cheeks.

He couldn't help himself. Before he knew it, he flung his arms around her, fighting back heavy sobs. "I don't want you to die, Mother! I hate seeing you like this!

She wrapped him around her arms tightly. "It's just part of the cycle of life, _mon amour_. We all will die someday."

"But I hate not being able to do anything to help you. I just hate it! It's not fair!"

"Unfortunately, life isn't fair. Death does not differentiate between the good and the bad, rich or the poor. It takes whoever it wants, when it wants it." She gently ruffled his hair. "Just promise me that no matter what happens to me that you'll be strong. Okay?"

Mukuro forced himself to nod his head. There was an odd sense of whimsy in her eyes as she looked at him, a dreamy smile on her lips.

"It's funny... You seem to remind me not of your father more and more every day." He jolted upright and gawked at her. She never talked about his father to him before, and he almost doubted he even existed.

"Yes, I definitely see it. It must be the eyes. They were always so expressive, such a pretty shade of blue." She glanced down at the flower." He used to make illusions like these flowers all the time for me, always before each mission for the mafia he worked for."

"What happened to him?"

She frowned and coughed, laying the flower against her chest. "Well, when I was pregnant with you, your father wanted to move away – far from this bloody, mafia life to one full of peace. But his boss didn't want that to happen. Your father was too valuable, too much of an important tool for them to simply lose. Then they heard about my own skills, the power of my eye. They asked me several times to join their mafia along with your father, but I always refused. Before we could leave, your father... he… he was trying to protect me, and they…"

Her breathing was heavier, more labored. When he noticed spots of red ripple in her watery eye, he quickly waved his hand over her face. The illusion settled like water, calming to its normal, clear blue state.

"Thank you, dear. This illness has been taking a toll on me. It's been harder to do these illusions lately."

She sniffled once again, quickly drying her eyes. "After that, I ran away. I couldn't allow them to capture me and risk them using me or you for our powers. That's how we ended up here to hide, trying to find a way to live a semblance of a normal life."

"And did you love him?" Seeing his mother stare at him with a tired puzzlement, he clarified, "I meant did you love father, my real father?"

"Oh, I love your father very much, but I knew I couldn't give up. I had you to take care of, to help guide you to a better life, to love with all my heart..." Her voice quieted a bit as she added, "That's why, dear, I'm sorry how everything's turning out right now. All I'm doing now is making you worry."

"It's okay, Mother. It's not your fault. I'll do whatever I can to help so please rest." Mukuro curled tightly against her side, leaning his head onto her shoulder. "I love you."

With her eyes drifting to a close, a low yawn escaping her lips, she said, "I love you too."

He listened to the calm, rhythmic sound of her breathing as she fell asleep. He found himself unable to rest, fearing that each breath would be his mother's last, that she would die while holding him in his arms.

It was true. Life wasn't fair. It was not fair that she was going to die, that she would leave him so alone. He could do nothing, but watch as his mother deteriorated right before him.

He merely stared at his flower, watching its bright petals fall back onto the sheets before disappearing in a flurry of mist.

Little did he know of that figure staring at them through a crack in the doorway, of those eyes narrowed into a heated glare. The flowers in his hands were nearly crushed, the petals falling to the floor like droplets of blood.

* * *

A/N Notes: Thanks for reading~


	7. Chapter 7

He examined the bouquet in his hands, studying the brightness and vibrancy of each flower. He had been working in the gardens all day and was excited to show his mother the flowers he got her. Sure, he had no permission to pick these himself, but Agathe let him slide this once.

'_I hope she likes them._'

He grinned, proud of his selection. He had no idea what each of these flowers were called, but the colors were just beautiful. They were all a bright red, shining underneath the fluorescence.

'_Maybe these will help her get better._'

He could afford to be a little hopeful. After all, today was a special day for him. He just had one wish, one single hope that he prayed would come true... and he hoped that these flowers could somehow help make it happen.

"Mother, I've got..." His words trailed off his tongue. His eyes widened at the sight. "W... What happened?"

Everything was in complete disarray. Furniture was flipped and broken in pieces. Frames laid in shatters on the floor. He slowly stepped inside, fearing the worst. Did someone break into their home? He hoped that at least his stepfather was here to protect his mother...

The thought jolted him back to reality, sending a cold shiver to race down his spine. "Mother?"

There was no response. He crept closer to her room. Ice crept through his veins when he saw the door ripped off its hinges.

He found no breath to speak. He edged closer until he could see a group of people standing inside. They were all men, garbed in back suits, surrounding his mother's bed and making it impossible to see her.

"This wasn't part of the deal. She isn't of use to us like this."

"But we can still use it! We just need another host."

"Tch, it would kill any normal human being if we tried to use it."

"There is still one option..."

"Who are you all?"

The men turned to face him. Mukuro stood there, staring at them. He swallowed, feeling his heart beat rapidly against his chest. He scanned the crowd and settled on one familiar face. "Father, who are these people? What are you all doing here?"

One of the men's eyes sparkled at the sight of him. Turning to Emiliano, he asked, "Is that the one you were talking about? Ophelia's son, Luciano?" Emiliano nodded his head. The man's lips spread into a Cheshire-like grin. "Perfect."

Before Mukuro could escape off, Emiliano plucked him off the ground. One of the other men grabbed the flowers out of the boy's hands and tossed them aside.

"Let me go! Tell me what's going on right now!"

"Calm him down." Emiliano covered his mouth with his hand, his cries turning low and muffled. Other men surrounded him, restraining his arms and legs.

The man readjusted his glasses and stepped towards the thrashing boy. "Little Luciano Vitale, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Benigno, top researcher of the Estraneo Familigia."

Mukuro's movements stilled, eyes widening in recognition. The hand fell from his mouth when they realized he would not say a word. Benigno was the man responsible for all the mafia's various experiments, the ones that that caused all the screams that haunted him even in his dreams. Mukuro felt his mouth run dry. He gripped his hands tightly, trying to stop himself from trembling.

"As for why I'm here, your father informed us of a very special opportunity. You are one the last of a great line of illusionists, one strong enough to go through the Six Paths of Hell... Perhaps I should correct myself and say _the_ last."

Mukuro nearly wilted against his restraints. He could barely move, unable to even think.

'_It couldn't be... No, he wouldn't do this to us..._'

"Too bad to what happened to your mother. Such a fragile beauty she was... She was sick enough already, but then she had to poison herself before we can take her to my lab," Benigno said with a forlorn sigh. Mukuro glanced up to his stepfather, his eyes wide, questioning. Emiliano did not meet his gaze, his expression blank and unreadable, tinged only by a negligible look of sadness.

Benigno grabbed his chin, forcing the boy to look at him. "I almost thought that all hope was lost... until Emiliano told us about his stepson and his talents in illusions." Mukuro inhaled sharply, paralyzed by fear. "Why don't we see if you're truly the heir of this gift, hmm?"

The researcher released him and nodded his head. The Estraneo men grabbed him and carried him off, easily restraining his thrashing body.

"No! Let me go! Let me-" His words were clipped from his tongue. When the men stepped aside, he could see her. His heart nearly shattered in his chest. He gasped for air, feeling as if he was suffocating.

Ophelia, his mother, his one vibrant light. The flowers mingled with the vibrancy of her blood, complimenting the blood on the man's hand that held a familiar right eye.

"M... Mother..." He sagged against his captors, losing all will to fight. His vision was beclouded with tears, blurring everything into a miasma of red.

Today was supposed to be a special. After all, it was his birthday.

* * *

A/N Notes: Thanks for reading~


	8. Chapter 8

When he was punched his stomach once again, Mukuro no longer bothered crying out. He released a single, guttural groan, but he quickly fell silent. His right eye stung underneath the bandages, throbbing in unison to his aching body. Mukuro looked up and glared with his single eye.

He bit the side of his cheek, refusing to scream out when Emiliano slapped him.

"Don't you dare look at me like that, you brat," the man growled, nearly driving his fist through the boy's stomach. Despite the beatings, despite the various bruises and cuts all throughout his body, Mukuro remained defiant.

"Why you-"

"Oh, still no progress?" Emiliano turned around to see Benigno at the doorway. He shook his head, drawing a sigh from the researcher's lips. "You know he's no use to us until he starts using his abilities. If you manage to get him to activate them, I'll be sure that you're promoted to a higher rank and give you another raise."

"I'm trying, but I can't get anything out of him," the man grumbled underneath his breath. "Why don't we just put the eye on someone else and be rid of this brat?"

"Because the eye will not accept just anyone. All those unworthy of its power will die," he replied. He looked down at Mukuro, the researcher's eyes glistening with wonder. "And for a mere child to be chosen as its host... He must have a lot of latent potential."

"If only he would be more cooperative with us," Emiliano grumbled.

Mukuro mentally scoffed and glared.

It was the same routine every day since they placed this eye into his socket, the same eye that his mother had before she died. They theorized that environmental stress would assist in activating the eye's powers, theorizing it would be a natural defense mechanism that would arise against outside stimuli on the host. Their idea of environmental stress was torture.

The researcher drew close and examined his face, his gaze lingering over the boy's bandages.

"Stubborn child... Emiliano, I will give you a few more minutes with him before I will allow the medical team to care for his wounds. We want him broken, but not dead. Then once that's done, it'll be my turn to deal with him."

At the dangerous curl of his lips, Mukuro felt his skin sting, still a little raw from where Benigno attached the electric probes.

He winced when Benigno gripped his bruised chin, nearly crushing it between his clean, gloved fingers.

"Luciano, this all can end. You understand that, right? All you need is to activate your eye, and you do not need to suffer any more."

Mukuro considered his words for only a moment before he smiled.

"No matter what you or your bloody mafia does to me, I will never bow down and serve you. If I knew how to activate the eye's power, I would use it to destroy you murderers rather than help you."

Benigno's eyes flashed underneath his glasses, his face flushing an angry red. Mukuto stumbled back, tentatively massaging his cheek after he slapped him.

"We shall see about that, little Luciano Vitale. It will be a pleasure shattering that defiant spirit of yours." He readjusted his glasses and passively turned towards the other man. "Don't linger too long. I still want my turn at the boy."

Mukuro managed to pick himself up to a proper sitting position, watching as the researcher's white coat disappear behind the door. All that was left was Emiliano and Mukuro, father and son.

"Brat."

He snapped his head up to see Emiliano standing over him, eyes narrowed, lips curled back in disgust.

Mukuro responded with equivalent hostility. "Bastard. How could you even do this to us, to my own mother?"

"Why didn't Ophelia ever tell him her secret? Me, her husband! Didn't she care for me at all?"

"She must have liked you enough if she was crazy enough to stay with you for so long..."

Before he knew it, Emiliano punched him again, sending a reverberating pain from his bruised cheek throughout his body.

"All Ophelia ever cared about was you. All that mattered was you. While my whole world revolved around her, hers revolved around her bratty son. Why didn't she love me like she loves you? Why do you deserve it more than me?" His shoulders were shaking, a crazed gleam shining his eyes.

"Look at yourself. You don't deserve my mother's love. Because of you, she's dead."

The boy grunted when there was a harsh impact to his stomach.

"Unlike you, I could have protected her and her secret. I would have given everything she needed. None of this would have happened if only Ophelia trusted me, loved me like I loved here..."

Then Mukuro noticed other emotions in his eyes, drowning underneath his hysteria, his anger. The light in the man's eyes was dull, full of sadness and pain, of heartache and betrayal. Emiliano's shoulders shook even more as he swiped the liquids threatening to form in his eyes.

Perhaps there was a time where the boy could have pitied his stepfather and sympathized his with feelings. There could have been a time where he would have been able to reconcile with him and fix their relationship.

The point of the matter was that the time for such things was gone.

"You didn't love my mother! If you truly loved her, you wouldn't betray us like this, selling us out for a measly title and money. If you loved my mother you would have saved her!"

"Shut up!"

When Emiliano punched him, it was much harder than usual. He could almost hear his cheekbone crack under as his head slammed against the wall. Mukuro gently rubbed his head, feeling a sticky warmth touch his fingers.

"You don't understand my feelings, the sort of love I feel. You never will." His voice sounded muffled in the boy's ears, his vision of his stepfather beginning to blur. "This is all your fault. Everything would be better if you just went to hell."

Then he left, slamming the door behind him. The child slumped on the floor, his right eye throbbing as tears raced down his face.

"You stupid eye, if you're so powerful, why didn't you save my mother? Why can't I just use your power to deal with these people?" he gasped between sobs.

All adrenaline left his veins, leaving him an empty, broken shell. He could feel each new bruise throb against his skin, a sharp pain piercing through his skull.

'_I hate this... I hate all of them!_' His eyelids grew heavy, the pain enervating him of what little strength he had left. '_Why am I so weak? Why don't you lend me your power and help me?_'

As he drifted to unconsciousness, allowing everything to fade away into an impenetrable darkness, he swore he heard a single voice calling for him.

'_Be careful what you ask for... Do you really want my help?_'

* * *

A/N Notes: Thanks for reading~


	9. Chapter 9

Once the door shut closed, Mukuro released a low breath and leant back against the wall in relief. It was another day of torture, one of who knows how many days. He coughed heavily, wiping the corners of his mouth of blood. Despite the beatings and various trials, he refused to give in and break, to give them the satisfaction of beating him.

But he would be lying if all this torture wasn't getting to him.

He hugged his arms gently against his chest, its flesh still scorched and burnt from Benigno's "experiments." His head dropped on top of his knees, giving in to his fatigue, listening to the rumble of his empty stomach.

As part of their experiment and punishment for his seeming lack of cooperation, they decided to cut his food supplies, dwindling it down to basically nothing in hopes it would persuade him to activate the powers of his eye.

'_You can take all this pain away if you only do as we say._'

He clenched his fists, ignoring the striking ache shooting through his arms. If only he knew how, he would do more than show them exactly what he can do...

But perhaps at that point he'd already be dead.

His stomach rumbled loudly, and each part of his body seemed to throb and sting in unison. He curled tightly into himself, wanting nothing more than for this all to end.

'_I don't know how much more I can take..._'

The door knob began to turn. He jumped and curled tightly in defense. They couldn't be coming for him so soon. They just finished their experiment with him, and it was impossible for them to be coming now of all times. He braced himself for the worst, pressing his back further into the wall.

The door opened. Two heads peeked inside.

Mukuro blinked in surprise, his shoulders relaxing a fraction of an inch. He stared at the two figures – two children, he noted – and waited to see what they'll do.

Finally after a long moment of waiting, watching, there was movement. The boy with glasses opened the door a little wider. The blonde boy whimpered in response, but continued inside, carrying something wrapped in his hands.

Mukuro could only stare, unsure what was going on he watched the two lay the wrappings on the floor, opening them up slightly for him to see. A small pile of fruit, bread, and cheese. It was a meager gift, but still the tribute struck him.

He looked up to see the two boys smiling slightly at him.

His stomach grumbled at the sight, but he shook his head. "No... I can't take this. You can have it."

Despite his pleas otherwise, the two boys refused. With final, meek smiles, the two edged towards the door and disappeared.

He exhaled sharply, becoming aware of how his heart beat wildly against his chest, the anxiety that was still rushing through his systems. He looked down at the food and examined them. The food smelled fine, and it did not seem poisoned. He took a tentative bite and almost melted, his stomach pleading for more. His eyes drifted back at the doorway, at the two boys he had met only once before in his life and thought would never see again.

As he took another bite, something within him finally cracked. He dropped his head on his knees and began to cry.

That was the last day he ever allowed himself to think such self-defeating thoughts, the closest he ever felt to giving up. That was the day when he started coming up with his plan.

* * *

A/N Notes: Thanks for reading~


	10. Chapter 10

"It seems like they haven't been taking it easier on you."

Mukuro released a low breath, which was equivalent to a scoff in his current state. It hurt to breathe too deeply or release any other kinds of outbursts. Agathe paused a moment when he winced, applying the antiseptic more gently.

"You know, those Mafiosi always talk about how wonderful it is they found you." He turned his head to look at her. Agathe's face was soft and tired, making her seem older. "They say you're their greatest weapon, the tool they will use to bring their fallen mafia back to its original glory." Her hands began to shake, tears pooling in her eyes. "But don't they see? Don't they see you're just a boy... Just a little boy."

That was when Agathe collapsed onto the floor, sobbing heavily into her lap.

He patted her gently on the back, a little unsure what else to do. "It's okay, Agathe. I'm a big boy now... I can handle anything they throw at me."

"But I'm not sure you will handle their next experiment…"

His eye widened. From her apron pockets, she pulled out three objects. One of them especially attracted his attention – a single bullet. Suddenly he felt a little sick to his stomach, his vision beginning to blur as everything around him tilted and swayed.

"This bullet is one of their special possession bullets. You must have heard of it before. For the next experiment, they want to test and see if you are compatible with it. If not..."

Her silence hung heavily in the air, laying a grave weight in his mind.

"I will be delivering these objects tomorrow when they begin their experiment. I wanted to warn you at least since I don't know what else I can do to help..."

"No, this is enough. Thank you."

Agathe gathered the objects again, wincing when the trident cut her finger.

"You are a good boy, Luciano. I don't care what the others say about you, but I know you and your mother were good people. I trust that whatever you decide to do will be right."

Mukuro did not respond. She offered a kind smile, stood up, and left him to his solitude once more.

He felt his hands shaking when he brought his knees tightly in, his chest heaving at the thought despite how painful it was.

They were going to test out their bullet on them. There was a possibility he could die.

'_And I can't do anything to defend myself!'_

He stomped his feet into the floor, cursing his overall weakness. He was helpless as ever against them, too weak to even try to fight.

'_If only I was stronger..._' he thought, slipping away towards unconsciousness, his exhaustion stripping him of all strength. '_If only I wasn't so weak and could use this eye, then they wouldn't be able to hurt me or anyone ever again._'

As he slipped further into the darkness, he heard a single voice, one he heard long ago in what he thought was in his dreams.

'_What will you do power?_'

* * *

A/N Notes: Thanks for reading~


	11. Chapter 11

He woke up with a jolt and found himself surrounded by thick, dark mist. He blinked, hoping to dispel the foggy shadows. He waved his hand cautiously around, watching mist coil around his hand before settling back in its place.

He could see nothing – the room, the people, everything was drowned in an all concealing mist.

"What will you do?"

Mukuro flinched at the sound of the voice. His senses were on high alert, his eyes darting to every curling tumble of mist.

"What will you do for power?"

Then his attention was drawn towards a single light in the shadows. It was small and red, appearing almost familiar to him.

As the light drew closer, he gasped, his hand flying over to his bandages. What he was looking at was _his_ right eye.

"Answer me. What will you do for power? To be free of your captors? To be free of all that pain and torture?"

Mukuro swallowed. "A... Anything."

"Then will you use me? Accept my power for your bidding?"

Mukuro hesitated. The eye never wavered.

"Your mother tried rejecting me, but I sense you're different. You are much stronger than her and have more ambition, more potential. A kind of potential that can completely change the world as well as destroy it."

He felt glued to his spot, mesmerized by the glowing eye, the mist curling languidly around him.

"Your mother had warned you that great power comes with a price. I help open a gate into the other realms, enabling your mortal body to sustain whatever powers you find there. I will not protect you." He flinched back when the eye was floating directly before him, an eerie six floating in a sea of red. "Going through such paths only brings about pain and darkness... Madness and self-destruction, but also great power and strength. There will be no turning back. Are you sure you're willing to do it?"

The boy paused for a moment and considered those words, his mother's warnings.

'_This is your chance.'_ His mother's voice seemed to whisper to him. '_You can still get out of this. You can escape the darkness and live in the light._'

'_You can take all this pain away if you only do as we say._'

His fists clenched, and he gritted his teeth. It was the mafia that swept them into the dark in the first place, the mafia that took away his mother, _the damn mafia_ for torturing him and every other child in this estate.

Not anymore. He made his decision.

He looked up into the eye and said, "Yes, I will go through the paths."

The eye glimmered at his response. The mist surrounding him seemed to thicken, nearly robbing him of breath, drowning out the eye's bright light.

"Then let's begin. We will now enter the first realm – the realm of hell."

Then everything faded in a veil of black.

* * *

A/N Notes: Well this was fun, but it seems like this series is almost done. Thanks for reading~


	12. Chapter 12

"Oh, Luciano, you shouldn't look so down!"

Mukuro didn't look up when the men entered the room. He kept his head on his knees, his gaze fixated on the tiled floors. He could just sense the bright smile on Benigno's face.

"You should be excited for the surprise we have for you, or should I call it an honor even."

Two men picked the boy up from the ground. Benigno appeared directly before him, the light in his eyes sending a shiver down his spine.

"It is the Estraneo's greatest gift to you." The researcher glanced over to Agathe. The maid frowned, dragging her feet as she handed him the bullets and gun.

Mukuro's eye widened in recognition. He thrashed against his restraints, fighting with every ounce of power he had left. "No! No! Please, please anything but that!"

Emiliano scoffed. Before he could comment, Benigno raised his hand to silence him. He held the boy's chin in one hand, forcing his head to still and look at him.

"You should be honored to be given our family's greatest prize. If this works on you, combined with your skills, their forces will be unstoppable," Benigno said.

"And if it doesn't work?" Mukuro asked.

He tensed when he felt something cold press against his temple.

Benigno's face was still wide with a smile. "Oh well. Just consider it an honor that you died for such a noble cause that is serving your family."

_Bang!_

The body fell to the floor with low plunk. Everyone turned to their possession target with a trident in his hands. Still, nothing happened.

Emiliano crossed his arms. "So what? Does this mean the experiment failed?"

Benigno nudged the boy with his foot and looked back at their possession target. The man sighed and shook his head. The researcher took a step back and shrugged his shoulders.

"It seems like it. What a shame... I even reconfigured the bullets to increase the likelihood it would be more compatible with him."

Still the two men waited for another long moment, expecting to see something, anything.

Instead there was a loud cry. Emiliano and Benigno turned around to see Agathe slashing out at the other members, stabbing some directly in the heart.

"What the hell..."

Agathe then turned towards them, hair falling over her face, the trident pointed towards them. Her intent was clear.

Before she could make a move, Emiliano raised his gun and fired. Agathe collapsed unceremoniously onto the floor, her blood mingling with the others.

"What the hell got into the maid? Did she go mad after we killed the boy? She was really fond of him."

"Even so, she shouldn't be able to handle all those men. They are all trained professionals and she's a mere maid," Benigno noted and turned to examine the young boy. Could it be? Was it possible?

_Is this what you wanted?_

"Benigno!"

The researcher quickly turned around, shooting his attacker down before the trident made contact. He took a moment to stare at the body, confusion coloring his features, his attention attracted to another attacker hurtling towards them.

As more and more of their men came hurtling towards the two, Emiliano and Benigno countered with a rain of gunfire, watching them all fall like dominos on the red streaked floor.

"What the hell is going on? Why are our own men attacking is?" Emiliano asked, shooting another in the skull.

"I'm not certain... but if I'm right, then this could mean that…"

_Realm Three - Realm of Animals._

The two froze, watching as snakes glided towards them, their fangs bared, poison dripping. Both men swept the barrage away and sent them flying towards their other men, listening them squirm and cry once the snakes sunk their teeth into their flesh.

_Isn't this what you asked for?_

In the midst of the chaos, one man stood up from the carnage and smiled. The two men could only stare at their intended test subject, studying the single red eye.

Benigno nearly shook with joy. "It worked... Emiliano, it worked!"

"Now's not the time to celebrate." Emiliano raised his gun. "Put the trident down. Don't make me shoot."

His smile did not waver, staring at them with his eyes glazed, shining with a strange light. "I think you should be the ones standing down. Don't you think so, Father?"

He took a step forward.

"Luciano, stand down. _Now._"

Mukuro laughed. "Make me."

Emiliano gritted his teeth, a nerve pulsing from his temples, and fired. The possessed body dodged the bullet with ease. He was for a moment shocked and blinked, thinking for a moment that his right eye was surrounded by a faint, purple flame.

"Realm Four – Realm of Demons."

Before Emiliano could register what happened, the body punched him squarely in the stomach. He buckled to the ground with a low groan, the gun slipping out of his hands.

"It seemed like only moments ago that I knelt before your feet completely at your mercy. Now look at how the roles have changed." Emiliano groaned again when he was kicked right in the stomach.

His arms outstretched, the smile on his lips making him look almost mad.

"Why don't I play a little experiment on you and see how you like it?"

"Not if I can help it."

Benigno fired his gun, watching as the man fell to the ground. Emiliano recollected himself, and both released a sigh of relief.

"That's good that atrocity was-"

The words disappeared from Benigno's lips. Emiliano's eyes widened to see parts of the trident pointing through Benigno's chest. Young Mukuro pulled it took of his chest, and Benigno fell to the ground.

A grin curled at his lips. "Hello, Father."

Emiliano jumped back, his arms shaking. He clumsily picked the gun up and pointed it at the boy.

"Lu... Luciano, stay away from me! I'll... I'll shoot you!"

He chuckled. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Perplexed, his stepfather looked down, gasping when the gun and his hands seemed to be melting away. He flung the gun aside and dropped to his knees, watching in horror as his flesh dripped down into a puddle beneath him.

"Kufufu... As you can see, my illusions can create more than simple flowers."

Emiliano blinked and saw his hands were normal once again, the skin still intact. His attention then was attracted to the trident inches away from his face.

"Please, please spare me!"

"Like you spared my mother? Like you spared me?" He did not offer a response. Mukuro only scoffed. "You hated me, jealous of something you did not rightly earn."

He remained frozen with fear when the trident was pressed to his neck, drawing out a single pearl of blood. "Now answer me this. Did you truly, honestly love my mother?"

His face softened, a sad light gleaming dimly in his eyes. His answer came as a whisper. "Yes... Yes, I did. All I wanted was for her to love me too."

That answer caused the boy's features to fall completely blank. The trident lowered, and he kneeled down before him so they could stare at each directly on the eyes.

"I'll admit, I'm not going to kill you like the others." Emiliano's eyes sparked, so full of expectation, hope. Mukuro's lips curved into a smile. "I plan on torturing you just as you had tortured me, make you experience my mother's pain tenfold."

Emiliano gasped, and his fear turned into anger. His face slowly burned into a deep red, a pulse throbbing against his neck. He swung his arm around, planning on slamming his fist into the boy's face.

The punch never made contact. Mukuro disappeared in a flurry of mist.

"Where are you, brat? Face me!" he shouted.

He remained on high alert and watched his surroundings carefully. The walls began to melt away, fading away in a flurry of thick mist.

It was only an illusion, he tried telling himself as everything began to fade into darkness. It was all that boy's clever illusions. It wasn't real.

"Before, you told me to go to hell." He turned his head, seeing nothing but a thick fog. "So I did."

Then floating before him was a single, large eye. Emiliano braced himself, watching as it slowly opened, revealing a sea of blood red.

"Prepare yourself because you will experience hell yourself."

The eye's iris shifted, changing into a familiar shape. _Ichi_. One.

"Realm One – the Realm of Hell."

All Emiliano could hear after that was the sound of his own screams.

* * *

A/N Notes: Thanks for reading~


	13. Chapter 13

Everything was finally silent, save for his own breathing. It came in erratic bursts, echoing in the stillness. He could even hear the sound of the blood dripping down his trident.

This red was proof. This silence validated his greatest achievement.

He looked around, surveying the lines of corpses in the room, the metallic scent of blood hanging heavily in the air.

A smile curled his lips and laughter escaped his throat. He did it. He activated his powers. He killed them all. He was free.

'_Still, why doesn't it feel enough?_'

Thinking of it now, this world was still a place full of insignificant people who prey on the weak, stepping on those who stand in their way. Humans reveled in the darkness, destroying light in order to find the power they crave, one that could only hold a candle to the ones given by his own eye.

It was an in insignificant and impure world that required purging, drowning everything in darkness like he had experienced in order to achieve enlightenment.

And his first order of business to achieve his goals was to destroy the mafia.

* * *

In the middle of the estate's hallway, he halted in his place and turned around. Two children had followed him through carnage, the two that had helped him that time before.

"I spared you from this destruction and now you are free to go wherever you choose," Mukuro told them.

The two boys nodded their head in thanks. He took another step forward and saw them still follow after him, their eyes bright, hopeful.

He examined them for a moment, asking, "Would you two like to join me and fulfill my plans? Be my pawns?"

Their eyes brightened and vigorously nodded their heads.

Mukuro smirked. "Alright then. What are your names?"

"Chikusa Kakimoto."

"K... Ken Joshima."

* * *

As he made his way through the door, with Chikusa and Ken following him with such loyalty in their eyes, he stopped and stared at the rain. It was cool against his flushed skin, washing away the blood and numbing him from the pain that sang through his systems.

Standing there, he felt like something changed within him, as if the rain was washing him clean and giving him the chance to start afresh.

"What should we call you?" He turned towards Chikusa, seeing them look at him curiously.

He turned back into the rain, allowing it to sink down into his system, washing away his dirty Italian life and soiled Italian name. For his new life, he required a new name, one that fit him to the fullest.

"Mukuro. Rokudo Mukuro."

* * *

A/N Notes: Thanks for reading~


	14. Chapter 14

Though he desired to accomplish his plans, he knew it was impossible in his current state. He was still too weak, too small, and not at all intimidating. His current body could not yet truly do the things he wanted to do.

He needed another pawn, one he could control to suit his purposes.

But who?

The door to the estate swung open. Mukuro took a moment to compose himself and twisting his features into the picture of meekness.

"Hello? Are you alright, boy?"

Mukuro's eyes widened at the man's powerful physique, the intimidating look on his face.

"What's your name?"

"Mukuro... You?"

"Lancia..." His expression softened, pity glittering in his eyes. "Do you want to come inside?"

Mukuro nodded his head a smile curling at his lips.

This was it. He was perfect.

* * *

A/N Notes: Phew! I finally finished it! Just in time before I start school.

Thanks for all those who supported me on this journey. Your reviews helped motivated me to keep going!

As a side note, I am contemplating on doing a continuation of sorts. A sort of analysis of his his complex feelings and relationship with Chrome (6996 otp!) But whether that happens are remains in my brain is still up for debate.

Anyways, thanks for reading~


End file.
